Rejected Mate and Following Fate

That quietens me into submission, and I don't fight him. Colton leads the way, grasping my hand and tugs me with him through the hall. It's busy, filled with Santos coming and going from the mess hall, in all states of sports attire as training started today, and everyone seems to either be rushing about or completely immobile in groups, chatting. There's a sense of confusion with some, urgency with others, and a holiday vibe with a more. I guess some don't realize the seriousness of why everything has changed, and some are overwhelmed with anxiety and rushing around doing whatever they're told with prompt action. It's chaotic, and overwhelming, and I close down and allow him to lead me through.

Colton takes me away from the swarm of moving groups and heads towards the corridor to the communal room on this floor. He walks fast and I fall in step obediently. It only takes a silent minute to turn into the passage and head down towards the room where everything seems strangely hushed.

As soon as he hits the digits on the keypad, the door clicks open and the lights flicker on. I blink at the change from dull to bright and follow him inside quietly, waiting for him to move me in and shut the door. He locks it behind us, and it only adds to the tension rising inside of me that he clearly doesn't want anyone else to eavesdrop.

He motions for me to sit, his manner different, Mr. serious on show in the form of the commander that came here last night and heads to the bar. He pulls it open and grabs two sodas for us before coming back and choosing to sit on the floor in front of my armchair. He hands me a can once he opens it for me, and opens his own, taking a long drink before saying anything. I can tell he's delaying this, regaining composure, or turning something over in his mind and I wait, patiently. Perched in the seat a little stiffer than I should be, cradling my drink between my hands.

It's something he thinks I should know, so I'm not going to hurry him. Trying to scan my memories in the long pause between us, but it's such a jumble when it comes to his mother, of snips and bits of conversations, that I don't get a clear understanding of where she is. It's been something I noticed but I assumed it held no real importance in the grand scheme of things.

"She's not here." He points out blankly as though reading my thoughts, after a moment of staring at his own can. I don't recognize his raw, raspy voice, and the strangled way the words come out, telling me this is more painful than he can bear. "I haven't seen her for nine years."

It's not the answer I expected, and I gawp, heart skipping a beat, my eyes widening with surprise and I have no words at all. Head trying to pull that together and wondering if I missed some sort of public announcement that the Santo Luna had left the mountain that long ago, I mean, I was still a kid. This was something the people had a right to know. I just didn't realize it had been that long, almost a decade without our Luna.

"She's in a…. place, sort of... care home, I guess. A medical facility. Has been since a few weeks after they came home from the war." He leans forward so his gaze is more heavily focused on the floor, yet I catch the glow of amber before he tilts away, enough that I can only see the top of his head. His emotions spiraling out and consuming me as I feed on his despair. My stomach clenches with it.

"Why?" I can sense his distancing emotionally, in a bid to stop me feeling his pain, cutting off to save me, and I can tell it's because this causes him a mass amount of it. I still get a huge wave of grief, regardless, not too dissimilar to how I felt when my parents never returned. He isn't pushing me away because he's ashamed, this is something that rips him up inside and he's aware he can't control the intensity.

"Her mind's broken. My mom never came home as the person she left. She isn't who she was, and my father said it's because she wasn't strong enough to endure the horrors of the war. That it was too much, and she faded away. She doesn't talk, or move, or do anything anymore. He said she stares into nothing and it's like her body lives on, but her soul's gone." He chokes on the words, his eyes glazing over, and it slices my stomach in response.

sat in mute silence staring at him, trying to get my head around that. Figuring out what I'm meant to say to that. Mental illness in wolves is rare, considering we

as a Luna, and cause them to doubt his command. He won't tell me where she is because he knows I would go to her and he doesn't want me to. He says it would scar me. That it would crush me." Colton stares at the can in his hand, exhaling heavily as he deflates and seems

himself. He doesn't realize the link between him rejecting me for not being what the pack needs, and the fact his mom fell at the same hurdle. Maybe in his head it's messy and all jumbled up and he doesn't really see it, but I do. It's not just his father's command holding him back, it's a deep-rooted fear that maybe I wouldn't be able to

Luna is not here, and for ten years her weakest have suffered under his command. Her absence the sole reason of my kind were pushed aside and forgotten. She would never have allowed the orphans to be cast

dark side, so he didn't have to take on his mate's role and care for them. He even sent his own away because she failed to fit

years and offers no conflict to the decisions he makes. Only a mate is truly allowed to argue, sway, dispute openly, or try and reason with an alpha, without real backlash or punishment. He rules with aggression now, and logic, and has no tender care for anyone who isn't worthy. Her warm eye on her people is missing,

to feel that kind of broken anguish. He was her only child, and from what I can feel, they loved one another deeply, as a mother and son should. It's an almost unbearable pain as it swarms me, but I can relate. I knew

is ashamed of being so broken by this, another pointer of Juan's parenting skill. Colton has been lacking a mother's touch for half his life. The most important years while he was forming. The one who should've nurtured and softened him after he was forced into battles as a child, taught him not to blindly follow his father in the way he does, and instilled the strength to be his own alpha. That was the Luna's job as his mother. He's been at his father's mercy for years, baring down on him, and conditioning his outlook without restraint, it's any wonder Colton's as caring as he is and not more like Juan. Teaching him the cruelest of lessons about loyalty and compassion to

what was thrown at her. He chose the good of the pack, over the mate he was destined to care for. No wonder Colton is screwed up. His role model, and moral guide, taught him that love is secondary to

shrugs with one shoulder, glancing to the side of us as a tear rolls down his cheek and I can tell he feels awkward at showing that kind of softness, probably hearing his father in his head, sneering and scolding him for it. Wolves are macho and men they try not to cry much. Juan

and reasons and explanations and seeing not a strong dominant alpha before me, but a

He saw my gifts coming through, he's started to really know me, and I hope he can see that as vulnerable as I may appear, there's a strength in me. The vampire attack it hurt me, left my heart weeping for those

to know that this situation might have a completely different outcome to his mom's and that what

and he doesn't trust my judgement. How can I know if he's right or wrong, when I'm so inanely in need of you it pushes logic out no

swamped instantly with the chaos that's been living inside of him since that night. It's overwhelming, and I am drowned with the urge to sob, tear my heart out, wail, kick someone and scream all at the same time. I have to cling on, like I'm on a rickety raft on a turbulent sea as his emotions devour me and almost snap me mentally with the force of such chaos. I breathe through the surge, until it settles inside of me and calms enough to reel my thoughts and

down in your gut, your instinct, without questioning it, just impulsively answer; do you think I'm capable of being that